"Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind, the second is to be kind, and the third [you guessed it] is to be kind. Henry James

Oh sure, there are more things we could add, but you have to admit, kindness is pretty powerful!  I don't know anything about Leo Buscaglia's theology, but I agree with his thinking here - Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around. 

I returned home with many lessons of kindness packed amidst my dirty camp clothes. 

Each day, my darling friend, Charlotte, strolled in my cabin, smiled, looked around and left. I never caught on; she was delivering a note each day for my pillow. She must have slipped in later to practice her brand of kindness, but I didn't know until the very last night that she was the precious student who took the time to leave me written encouragement and love.  She wasn't the only kind female during the week, though.  I was surrounded by the sweetest group of girls who doted on me and made me feel a part of their lives. 

That included the very best cabin on the grounds!

I chose not to share Rob's illness and death with my girls; I wanted our cabin to be a happy, "normal" place. My co-sponsors, Katie and Debbie, always make life fun and I wanted that for our campers. However, Wednesday's total meltdown led Katie and Debbie, my Aaron and Hur for the week, to spill my story and when I arrived that night, I was greeted with so much tenderness and concern from pj-clad teenagers that I thought my heart might burst. A night I will hold close to my heart for a very long while.

I end this chapter with joy, rejoicing in kind friends!  Even though, in the early hours of camp, I was ambushed with words and actions that could have easily destroyed my spirit and usefulness for the week, the kindness of others turned my week around and perhaps, spoke louder than any song or sermon. 

Kindness doesn't come naturally. Like love, it's not just a "feel good" emotion, but a purposeful action. Kindness requires looking into another's soul and asking "Where in life is this person and what does she need at this very moment?" I think that is impossible to carry out without God's touch. I love Sylvia Rossetti's wise words.

Genuine kindness is no ordinary act, but a gift of rare beauty. 

I'm still "dog-paddling" through this dark season after camp, trying to keep my head above the murky waters of depression. But I'm learning lessons that will carry through my life.

My takeaway from six days at summer camp is kindness. The kindness of others carried me through a week of inexplicable pain and loss.

Wednesday night's hike to the Exodus tabernacle might have been my hardest day since I said goodbye to Rob. Every seven years, our youth ministry erects this remarkable structure with careful detail. It's really like journeying through the time of Moses, but unlike the Israelites of his time, we have the opportunity to enter the Holy of Holies, a place that was reserved only for the High Priest.

The time came to move through the entrance to The Holy Place and after an evening of stuffing every emotion imaginable, my dam broke and uncontrollable tears spilled! Not only was I overwhelmed with the reminder that I have 24/7 access to our great God because of the Cross, but I was completely overcome with what I could only imagine Rob was experiencing. In His presence...face to face...Glory revealed... 

So undone that I could hardly stand! That's when Cal Mummert, a wonderful friend, rushed to my side, looped his strong arm with mine, and made the emotional walk with me through our tabernacle. With each step, I cried harder, but he held on tighter. Oh, kindness beyond words; I shall never forget that, Cal! 

I planned to hike back down to our lodging, but dear Paul Boedeker insisted I ride instead. Paul, you knew I needed help and had a plan! Did you know that the trip down might have done irreparable damage to my injured knee?

I reached the fire pit and there was Jimmie O'Quinn, waiting with arms wide open. Jimmie, Cal, and sweet Hudson, one of Rob's guys, held me, prayed over me, and for the first time all week, I felt pain lift and new strength fill me; I could now pay forward the kindness shown by these special men.  

To be continued...

Rob claimed our walk-in closet early in our marriage.
You see he had a major t-shirt collection and therefore, needed a lot of room to organize his shirts by team, color, sport, school and so on...
You could often find him ducking into campus bookstores while traveling for work so he could purchase just one more college basketball shirt. Just one more...
Several months after his death, I began the bittersweet task of handling his clothes. I 
carefully packed his beloved collection to make future quilts for the family.  Camp Tallowood was looming and as I looked at the pile of tribe shirts from years past, I knew I needed to take a piece of Rob with me.  Well, it ended up more than a piece, didn't it?

My heart nearly broke the first evening when I began to put scissors to each shirt. "How can I be doing this? Rob should be wearing these; I shouldn't be ripping them apart like my heart!" But each cut got easier and I found a little healing with each seam.

Through tear-filled eyes, I managed to add heartfelt, personal messages that are forever hidden in the layers.

Rob arrived at our first year at Camp Eagle on crutches, one week postop after an Achilles tendon repair. Not the sanest thing he ever did, but he was not going to miss this new adventure! Needing the assistance of a four-wheeler, we waited on top of the mountain after the Thursday hike, gazing at the stars and hoping it would take a while for our vehicle to return. The clear sky was filled with stars that hung so low we thought we could reach up and touch them. We never forgot that miraculous night and always looked forward to God's handiwork each year.

As I arranged the colorful squares, I traveled through years of camp themes, memory verses, amazing students and co-sponsors, funny moments, holy moments. Oh, how I wished I could pack the Robisons, the Forehands, the Catings and so many more beautiful friends from years past along with this quilt that represented much more than yards of cotton. 

The piecing of Rob's shirts helped me say goodbye to the past; the final "tying off" step allowed me to focus solely on the present. Each night, as camp neared, I took the list of campers and sponsors and prayed for each participant as I secured the layers of the quilt with surgical knots. I think God was doing some stitching of His own on my broken heart. 

Camp week arrived and I carefully packed Rob's quilt along with the uncertainty of how I would make it through without him.  

At the end of each full day,  I crawled into my bottom bunk and covered my weary body and heart with  remnants of my precious husband's love affair with summer youth camp.  My dear friend, Debbie, wrote wise words in her beautiful post about the Comforter. She got it right; I was not only wrapped in Rob's t-shirts, but even more so in the love, protection, and provision of an amazing God.

The Hike

Last year I was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension and after many tests, no specific cause could be found. Doctors' advice: walk 30 minutes daily, but avoid uphill exertion.  I'm a nurse; I rarely listen to good sound medical advice, but last year I asked Rob to make the big camp hike without me.  That he did with two large blood clots in his lung. Of course, I didn't know Rob was filled with cancer and life-threatening complications; I just attributed his inability to race up the hill, like in past years, to his soon to be repaired abdominal hernia. But... 
Guilt plagued me for months. What was I thinking? Why was I so selfish? 
I would make that hike this year in honor of Rob! I was determined! 
Backpack pared down to essentials and Rob's last Asher t-shirt pinned to it, hiking stick in hand, I was set to go, but the load still cried heavy.  My heart was full of bittersweet memories of the last Exodus hike and I was dreading the part where our men would carry the Ark of the Covenant to the Tabernacle. My Rob would be missing. I would not have that familiar strong hand to grasp when unsteady rocks were a struggle. A ton of "solo" to carry!

"Our" hike was sweet, yet solemn. I whispered the Song of Ascents, psalms recited by faithful Jews as they climbed the steps of their Temple, and lovingly remembered snapshots of past camps, but moreover, God's faithfulness throughout those years.  I would reach back occasionally and feel Rob's backpack and shirt. The three of us were making the climb together and I felt the guilt that had haunted me for months begin to shed.

Nearing the top, I began to tire, each step proving a little harder, both physically and emotionally. It was then I felt a gentle push on my backpack. Daniel, our Camp Eagle sponsor, was marking each step with me and pushing me toward the goal.  

The God of Israel will be your rear guard. Isaiah 52:12 

My rear guard... Isn't that just like our loving, protective Father?
For weeks prior to camp, I had prayed for the young woman or man who God would choose to assist our tribe. God had blessed us with former Camp Eagle staff that have become beautiful friends and encouragers during this difficult year. I knew He would provide once again, but Daniel exceeded my expectations! Throughout the week, my new friend would pray with and over me...truly a gift from God.
I'm again reminded that we're not meant to journey alone through this rocky, uphill climb called Life. The Message shouts Galatians 6:2 in a perfect way: Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and complete Christ's law.
Whose  backpack, full of hardship, am I going to reach out and gently push forward today?